I, In My Torment
by BeaValkyrie
Summary: Confronted once again with Robin of Locksley threatening his life, Guy wishes for an end which could not come too soon. Set during 3x01. Canon.


**Having rewatched the finale of S2 and being midway through my umpteenth viewing of the third series, I felt the writing itch once more... I won't say enjoy, because I'm quite sure you will feel as pained as I did writing it... **

* * *

_You've got your demons._

The point of a sword at my throat, both real and imagined. His anger seeps into the hold against my neck and a wild urge to be taken away from my own personal eternal flames almost overwhelms me. I do not shy away, I present myself to his vengeance.

"I live in hell!"

I intend for the words to be strong and meaningful, but they come out a broken roar, a fragment of the image which I attempt to portray to a man who it seems has been my age old enemy, at least for the years I have known him.

His eyes burn with a righteous anger which I wish more than anything to condemn, which I want to scorn as the defence of an outlaw, one who knows nothing but law breaking and misplaced loyalty. But in truth, I know with a terrible certainty that he knows the truth much better than I.

* * *

After all, he has won over me, regardless of who walks away from our battle alive. He won her heart, her love, _her life_. I have attempted to console myself in my consideration of my sins with the idea that I have robbed him of a future with her, but in fact it appears to be me who has paid the ultimate price.

Once I stood triumphant, unbowed. Before Robin of Locksley, _that accursed name which nags at my conscience and my seething thoughts_, returned to Nottinghamshire, bringing with him complications and a fight I no longer have the energy to continue. Or perhaps a renewed energy to end it all.

There can be no doubt that I have become hardened. I see through a haze of malcontent and hatred of any who dare to stand for what could be construed as not so morally bereft, as softer and more compassionate. I lost the part of my soul which was capable of such things in the heat of the desert, in a land more unutterably damned than holy.

So here I stand, and I wince, hissing with pain as he cuts my face, deep enough that I feel the bite of steel but not deep enough that I would fall into the oblivion for which I pray each night.

Empathy and any glimpse of goodness were not the only sacrifice made by the careless thrust of metal, by the untimely severing of any future which I may have hoped for. Now what remains, other than a rough, serrated edge? The gleam of the sword reflects only pale blue eyes which both comfort and accuse with _every breath I dare to take in_, and so I dull the blade rather than face the prickle at my conscience, and thus I must be stone.

In wakefulness I can function, however haggard my appearance, however often Vaisey may mock me. I shall not rise to his taunts, I shall not falter, and only with total ruthlessness and with it an absence of any human lack of control can I reign in the tide of pain which I suppress with such difficulty. The screams of townsfolk mean _nothing_, less than nothing to me. Background noise which serves no further purpose than to occupy me as I idly oversee the destruction which I no longer feel even the slightest inkling of desire to curb. Why should I do so now, when there is nobody to judge, pardon or condemn me for whom I would wish to change?

But within the cloak of darkness, as the night falls in and slowly, gradually, the noise around, be it commands or the buzz of fearful murmurings fades to silence and I am alone. As alone as one such as I can be, and in truth that is not a particularly accurate thing for me to say for I am never alone. It is only once there is an absence of surroundings that I allow myself to fall prey to that which haunts me.

_She haunts me._

With none to blame but myself, I could not expect otherwise. The presence of Sir Jasper, the conniving fool with whose last appearance I stood to both gain and lose everything I could have hoped to have in my life, only drives the pointed spikes further into my soul.

The last time he was in Nottingham, I rejected a certain escape in favour of standing by her, of fighting for those she so wished to protect and I had cast aside for so long in favour of loyalty to Vaisey and my own perpetual cowardice. Perhaps I was a good man that day. I do not know.

_Marian. How I regret what I have done. How I pray night after night for my torture to end, for my death to be swifter than that which I inflicted on you and yet a thousand years longer for I cannot forgive myself, I deserve neither life nor death for the travesty I have committed under the name of jealousy, passion, love, fear._

I did not intend to kill you, my love. I meant only... Only to reach out to you, one last attempt to change your mind, but as always my brutality came between us, the sword point I had not tried hard enough to blunt pierced you even as I have attempted, over and over, to make amends.

You, with your hair cascading in waves over your shoulders as you nigh danced forward, a defender of England, as you yourself proclaimed. You, all in white in stark contrast to the darkness of both my attire and heart. You, saving me from myself every time I falter in front of you.

_"I would rather die than marry you, Guy of Gisborne! I am going to marry Robin Hood. I love Robin Hood..." _And in that moment you should have read the anguish in my long held glare. I might have expected you to try and save the king, who you had attached yourself to blindly, running after Robin Hood. _You always ran after Robin Hood_. When did you ever run after me? In my dreams, you do not prevent him from drowning me. You laugh and run to his side as I die in flashes of blinding pain. You steal from me and mock me with your bottomless eyes until I cannot see for tears which I could never let you see. How betrayed I was. How I felt used when you revealed to me, time after time, that your loyalties lay elsewhere.

You, the brush of your lips on my cheek, the cut of a ring I gave you on my unsuspecting face, the fear in your eyes as I unmask you. You cry as I comfort you, present me only with the unforgiving side of your visage when I lean in to make my feelings known. You who will do these things no more and I feel the lack of you with every step, every hour, every breath.

You gave me too many chances, you were far too fair and yet, so callous. Thrown the bare bones of your affections, I had no right to you but I wished to take you nonetheless. I drove you away with my folly where I should have held out my hand. Perhaps then you would not have rejected me time and time again, leaving me to fall deeper into self loathing.

You turn from me each night now, with the exception of the times you cut me with your tears. Those nights I toss and turn, the burn of your slander against me coming in the form of your pained grimace as I feel you dying in my arms, as I, in my torment, flee like the coward I have always known myself to be. Or you cling to me, your hands claws which draw blood and laugh as the life leaves your eyes. Your dancing eyes.

"_You have killed me. You have extinguished anything we may have had. You have robbed me, Guy of Gisborne. Your suffering will not end, as you have cut me down. This is your lot, Guy. A consummation of your blackened thirst, does it please you, Sir Guy? You have me now... Is it worth it?"_

I scream at night, for the loss of you. You were my redemption and now you bring me only tortured cries which leave me listless and yearning for you.

* * *

"Then stay there."

But now, for all his threats, Robin of Locksley has changed his mind. He will not kill me, I see it in his eyes, for he has found what will pain me more. He will force me, as I have forced myself, to live in this eternal torment with the knowledge of what I have done and a soothing yet indignant voice gasping in my dreams until my days come to an end which will be more drawn out but no less prayed for. When the end comes, I will embrace it as I never embraced you.

_And darling, they all look like me._

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**I have made myself sad, all for you people. Please leave me a review - not the cheeriest of topics, I am aware. But, alas, I have chosen to face reality here. But I want to know what you think!_  
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**- Bea**


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